During my pregnancy, I strongly believed that as soon as my baby came out, I would forget every pain, every hardship that I went through to bring her out into the world. I thought I would love her instantly, bond with her as soon as I saw her. I had all kinds of positive ideas - she would be fully breastfed, I'd be environmentally conscious and use reusable diapers, I'd give birth without any painkillers, that I'd upload photos of her on facebook for all my friends to see as soon as I could, that I'd announce her birth immediately.
I later found out how optimistic and idealistic I was with those beliefs and intentions.
The first couple of weeks were hard. For me, for my hubby and for my mother.
I didn't immediately establish a bond with my baby. In fact, I didn't know how I felt about her. The night of August 10th, when the nurse wheeled her in for the first time to let me feed her, she wouldn't latch on. She just cried and cried until the nurse left me with her. I was in pain, my hormones were still unstable and I was close to tears, worried sick that my baby didn't want me. The next day when someone finally helped her latch on to me, I was still too much in pain and too overwhelmed at everything that was happening to really register my own feelings.
Everyone else expected me to be happy, so I pasted a big smile on my face whenever anyone came to visit and acted the part of the beaming new mommy.
It was only when we brought her home that I started feeling like the worst mother in the world. I think it's safe to say that the first two weeks were really hard for me, my husband and my mom (who was around to help me during my confinement)
My breastfeeding plan wasn't going all that well. I developed sore and cracked nipples very quickly (the lactation expert thought that the latching might have wrong but when they saw how my baby latched, they admitted that it was fine.) My breasts became engorged really badly despite feeding Hana on demand, and it was so painful that I started getting scared whenever I heard her cry. For the first 5 days, I slept all day and all night, only waking up to feed her, and only taking very small quantities of food. My mother got a little worried, I think, because breastfeeding meant that I needed to take in enough food to keep my energy up AND feed the baby at the same time but I could only take in bits at a time.
On the fifth day, I cried whenever Hana needed to feed. She would latch on for at least 40 minutes and a time and be crying and rooting half an hour later as opposed to every 2 hours! At this point, my nipples were raw and so cracked, and my breasts were so engorged that a mere touch would send me almost to tears. Sangat sakit.
Worse was how I felt about my precious little bundle. I just couldn't feel that love that people say mothers felt towards their kids. I felt detached from this cute little baby who depended on me. I missed the little bump in my stomach. THAT was the Hana I knew, not this crying bub who made me cry whenever she got hungry. I was scared of my own baby.
I broke down in front of my husband and told him how I felt, and, like I said, feeling like the worst mother in the whole wide world. I thought I was going crazy because all I wanted to do was cry. On one hand, I couldn't figure out why I didn't immediately fall in love with my baby, but on the other hand, I was scared stiff that because I seemed so ungrateful, god would take this little gift away from me. Later on, I found out that I probably had the baby blues.
I started feeling a little better when my husband came home one day with baby formula. Apparently, he had a discussion with my mom and they decided that it might be best to supplement Hana with formula while my nipples healed. At the same time, a confinement lady came and helped me massage the engorgement away.
That was when I found out that although I had a high supply of milk, my baby just wasn't getting much. During the time that Hana was on the formula and my breasts were less engorged, I pumped and pumped for 40-45 minutes at a time each and could only get meagre amounts. Even when doubled, it's still very little and it was possible that Hana wasn't getting enough which was why she got hungry so quickly. Whatever I managed to express in a day could maybe feed her once or twice and that was it.
With the pain and the unsettled hormones, I actually gave up on breastfeeding. It's still a very touchy subject with me and I feel like slapping whoever asks and questions my decision. Mothers kept saying they knew what the pain was but EVERY EXPERIENCE IS DIFFERENT and I don't think anyone has the right to judge me.
My baby blues lasted about a week and a half and after I stopped breastfeeding exclusively, it started getting a lot better. I held my baby a lot more, missed her when she was in the other room and started feeling the love towards her. I guess it was there, it was just a bit delayed.
Now I look at her and I feel a little guilty for the way I felt. Thankfully, Epol and mama were there for me all the way, and was totally supportive of every decision I made. They let me know that the way I felt wasn't my fault, that maybe Bf-ing wasn't for me, that how I felt in the beginning was something a lot of mothers went through.
I really don't know how I could've gotten through everything without those two (and my sisters who also went through sleepless nights to help out). They're all truly God's gifts to me.
I suppose what I really want to say is that it's normal not to feel an immediate attachment to your baby. It's easier for some than it is for others, and although I learnt it the hard way, I thank Allah every day for giving me Hana and my family.
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